


Punk Rock

by OnceUponASunsetDream



Category: Grayson (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Family, Gen, Music, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponASunsetDream/pseuds/OnceUponASunsetDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce sighed. "Its 'punk rock' apparently. Something to do with panicking discos or falling adolescence," Bruce's hand waved dismissively..."It's Dick's latest phase."</p><p>Inspired by Grayson #2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, I'm pretty sure I'm either sick or I've got some lovely hayfever and instead of sleeping last night I decided it was a brilliant idea to write this little one shot rather than sleep. I half-heartedly edited this after work today so I can't guarantee it's any good. Be warned. 
> 
> I think this explanation is the closest to spoilers you're gonna get so if you really don't wanna know anything (not that there's much), here's your warning.
> 
> Anywho, I was inspired to write this by Grayson volume 2, pretty sure it's issue #6, where Dick fights Midnighter. Don't remember the specifics but they referred to Dick's fighting style as Nightwing as jazz. Midnighter memorised all of his moves as Nightwing and Batman and Dick asked him if he'd memorised Robin's and then said "Welcome to punk rock." As I read it all I could think of was Bruce sitting at the Batcomputer with earplugs, slowly getting more and more annoyed as young Dick slowly became obsessed with blasting punk rock all through the cave and scaring all the bats.
> 
> So, yeah. I hope you like it.

Gotham was strangely beautiful bathed in the light from the setting sun. The ominous gargoyles that loomed from almost every building seemed a little less so. The sky was shot with pink and gold, the colours reflecting spectacularly off the glass of every skyscraper. It was a scary kind of beautiful.

Clark flew close to the buildings, slipping in and out of the shadows, a smile breaking free whenever he caught a glimpse of the sparkles in the fading light. It was still far too early for him to catch Batman and Robin as they danced along the rooftops. They wouldn't be setting out for several more hours yet. Clark easily rose up into the clouds and, concealed by their growing darkness, flew towards the outskirts of the city and Wayne Manor. 

The closer he got the louder the strange rhythmic thumping grew. Clark couldn't tell precisely what it was, it was too far away and distorted by barriers too thick. As he flew away from the cacophony of sound contained in the city centre and drew nearer to the more isolated areas of the obscenely wealthy Clark began to recognise the noise as music. By the time he had blown through one of the hidden entrance to the Batcave the music was almost deafening to his enhanced hearing. He couldn't tell exactly what it was except that it had the pounding bass of rock and roll but…it wasn't quite. 

Usually by the time Clark had gotten this far into the cave, passing through the waterfall and the spare vehicles there would be alarms blaring from the other side of the cave. Still, despite the lack of alarm, Clark was positive that Bruce knew he was there. He didn't react though, no tensing, twitching or grinding of the teeth as Clark landed lightly on the floor behind him. Bruce sat just as still as ever, staring up at the screen through the lenses of his cowl. 

"Bruce," Clark began. "Sorry for dropping in unannounced but…" Clark trailed off. The music was loud but Clark should have been audible over it. There was a mug of black coffee on the console beside Bruce's folded hands and the surface rippled with the bass thudding through the speakers. Bruce reached out and drank deeply. "Bruce?" Clark stepped forward, not bothering to disguise the sound of his feet. "Bruce? Everything alright?"

Bruce didn't react. Clark was having horrible delusions of robots and clones and mind-control when he reached out to touch Bruce's armoured shoulder. Bruce turned to look at him and sighed. The cup was replaced on the console and Clark had the distinct impression that Bruce was rolling his eyes. "What?" he snapped.

Clark paused, watching curiously. "Uh, I just wanted to talk about the latest recruits…are you reading my lips?" he frowned at Bruce, trying to see through the mask. 

Bruce's mouth twitched into something resembling a smirk. He pushed back the cowl and pulled two out ear plugs that looked seriously heavy duty. He glared towards the back of the cave. "What?" he repeated to Clark.

Clark followed his gaze to the back of the cave that lead to the training rooms. Clark couldn't see through the lead in the bedrock but it was certainly where the music originated from. "Um, I was going to ask about the new recruits."

Bruce's eyes definitely rolled this time. "Why? Go talk to Flash or something if you want gossip." he turned back to the computer, waving his hand absently. 

"No, I just wanted…" Clark looked again to the back of the cave where one song had trailed into another. "What's with the music, Bruce?"

Bruce sighed. "Its 'punk rock' apparently. Something to do with panicking discos or falling adolescence," Bruce's hand waved dismissively once more. Clark didn't say anything, too confused to speak. Bruce turned back to him looking impatient. "It's Dick's latest phase. Alfred assures me it will be temporary and given how quickly Dick went from skateboards to fantasy novels I am inclined to agree."

"Oh." Clark grinned, unabashed. Bruce looked disgusted and typed a few lines quickly on the keyboard. "So it's teenage angst then."

Bruce glared and Clark chuckled. "Teenage angst. Ridiculous."

"I bet you were the most angst-ridden of them all. Here in your dark manor writing depressing poetry that would make Poe cry."

Bruce growled at him but his ears were just the slightest bit pinker. He put his ear plugs back in and pulled the cowl back over his face. Conversation very clearly over. Clark chuckled to himself as he made his way towards the training rooms. He'd been there many times, sparring with Bruce or watching him train. He'd seen a fair few of Dick's training sessions as well. The kid was impressive. It had been a while since he'd had time to drop in, especially given the fiasco of the children forming their own team. 

The music was a lot clearer once he pushed open the thick door to the training room. The roof was a mess of ropes and wires and there was a lean figure swinging from the O-rings. As he watched Dick's body turned upside down, legs perfectly straight, arms forming a T shape. The muscles in his back were rippling and there was sweat dripping from him. Dick curled into a new position with almost painful slowness before dismounting from the bars, flipping onto a tall padded pillar and then to another and another before landing on the ground in a controlled roll all perfectly in time to the music. He rose to his feet in a smooth continuous movement, arms in the air. Clark couldn't help clapping and Robin beamed at him.

"Very impressive, Robin!" he called across the room and the boy preened. It was impressive. It would have been impressive coming from an Olympic athlete let alone a thirteen-year old boy. 

"I've been practising!" he called over the music. 

"I can tell." he picked up the boy when it was demanded and Dick stood on his hands on one of Clark's shoulders. "You'd win gold for sure."

"It's a shame Penguin doesn't hand out medals." Dick cackled as he used Clark's shoulder as a spring, leaping over to the iPod in the corner, attached to speakers shockingly loud for their small size. Dick shut off the music and in the new silence Clark could hear Bruce's soft, relieved, 'finally!' Dick slung a hoodie on over his training clothes and drank greedily from a bottle of water. 

"Maybe one day." 

Dick shot him a look and Clark smiled a little ruefully. It was no secret that Clark still harboured a desire to see all the young heroes give up their capes and live relatively normal lives. It was also no secret that all the said young heroes were determined to never see that happen. 

"So," Clark changed the subject, "what's with the music? Trying to see how far Bruce will go before he snaps and breaks out the classical musicals in revenge?"

Dick laughed. "He already takes me to the operas that Alfred makes him go to. He can't do anything worse than that. No, that's my style." Clark must have looked confused because Dick laughed again, a playful smile dancing on his face. "Bruce fights like heavy metal, ruthless and angry, and Catwoman fights like classical ballads, smooth and dramatic. Robin fights like punk rock." He held up his fists, sketching out a few punches to the rhythm of the last song he had played. 

Clark grinned. "That so? Not jazz?"

Dick rolled his eyes, looking painfully like Bruce. He was picking up more of the man's amusing habits and Clark had a lingering suspicion that it was deliberate. "No," he sounded so scathing that Clark had to carefully hide his smile. "You sound like Bruce. Maybe I'll change it up later. When I'm Batman I can fight like jazz. Now though, Robin fights like punk rock."

"Well that's bound to confuse the bad guys."

Dick probably knew that Clark was humouring him but he grinned regardless and cartwheeled towards the door. "That's the idea. It'll throw them all for a loop!"

Clark followed him out of the room with a bemused little smile. That boy was something else. Punk rock indeed.


End file.
